The "1934 -- A New Deal for Artists" Exhibit, which has been on display at The Montgomery Museum of Fine Arts since September 24 and which will close there on January 8, celebrates the 75th anniversary of the Public Works of Art Project, conducted from late 1933 to mid-1934 at the height of the Great Depression. In a significant time during that catastrophic decade, early into the presidency of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, 1933 and 1934 represented the darkest hours, with unemployment rates that exceeded 20%.
However, the Public Works of Art Project (PWAP) represents a new kind of thinking about the arts in America, as it was "the first federal government program to support the arts nationally." A June 1934 article in Survey Graphic magazine explains it this way:
Near the end of the same article, in explaining how proud and pleased the artists were to participate, we read: "They [the artists] speak of the restoration of morale, of renewed self-confidence, of the sense of being at last acknowledged as an important member of the social family, with a place in the economic system."[2] PWAP, by its very existence, acknowledged two things: artists as skilled workers make a genuine and redemptive contribution to society, and the government does have a role in bringing works of art of the general public.
Though I know very little about visual art as a craft or an as an art form, certainly not enough to make judgments about which works were "good" or "bad," I was struck by the obvious tone in the exhibit The working-classes were featured prominently, as were scenes from the lives of working people, which is what I noticed right off the bat -- farms, factories, granaries. For example, in Montgomery, the very first painting as I turned the corner from the main hall into the exhibit was Tyrone Comfort's "Gold is Where You Find It," a grim, gray-and-brown painting of a shirtless miner curled up to use both his arms and legs to operate the jack-hammer-like tool he is using in the mine. The powerful images in the exhibit could be lumped together generally as regionalist in style; though that label does give some indications, I can grant that it could mean anything from unpeopled scenes built from stark straight lines to warped and twisted figures that almost seem contorted in a funhouse mirror.
However, the Public Works of Art Project (PWAP) represents a new kind of thinking about the arts in America, as it was "the first federal government program to support the arts nationally." A June 1934 article in Survey Graphic magazine explains it this way:
The art lovers responsible for the Public Works of Art Project, most notably its guiding spirit, Edward Bruce, attorney and artist of Washington, had no intention of wasting this opportunity by setting artists and craftsmen at busy-work. Paid for out of public money, their work would belong to the public, to be placed in any building or park supported by federal, state or municipal taxes. Public buildings and parks could benefit by good art; consequently the best of the artists eligible for this aid must be chosen. [1]
Near the end of the same article, in explaining how proud and pleased the artists were to participate, we read: "They [the artists] speak of the restoration of morale, of renewed self-confidence, of the sense of being at last acknowledged as an important member of the social family, with a place in the economic system."[2] PWAP, by its very existence, acknowledged two things: artists as skilled workers make a genuine and redemptive contribution to society, and the government does have a role in bringing works of art of the general public.
Though I know very little about visual art as a craft or an as an art form, certainly not enough to make judgments about which works were "good" or "bad," I was struck by the obvious tone in the exhibit The working-classes were featured prominently, as were scenes from the lives of working people, which is what I noticed right off the bat -- farms, factories, granaries. For example, in Montgomery, the very first painting as I turned the corner from the main hall into the exhibit was Tyrone Comfort's "Gold is Where You Find It," a grim, gray-and-brown painting of a shirtless miner curled up to use both his arms and legs to operate the jack-hammer-like tool he is using in the mine. The powerful images in the exhibit could be lumped together generally as regionalist in style; though that label does give some indications, I can grant that it could mean anything from unpeopled scenes built from stark straight lines to warped and twisted figures that almost seem contorted in a funhouse mirror.
I wanted to go see this exhibit, because as a working writer who also knows plenty of working artists, I live everyday with what it means to try to bring creative works to the general public. I also know that one of the main impediments that I face as a consumer of art is the price of original works of art; often even small paintings costs in the hundreds of dollars, a luxury I can't afford, yet the painters who produce them are asking fair prices considering the amount of time and skill that goes into a work that can often only be sold once. I wonder, if not for government-sponsored public art and free-admission museums, how are most people supposed to access original works of art? Generally, most people wouldn't be able to, except possibly through prints and other mass-distribution media, which are poor substitutes for seeing the real thing. Standing in front of one of the paintings in the "1934" exhibit was a far better experience than reviewing the slideshow on the website later.
At a time when government funding for the arts is being cut and cut and cut, I have a bad feeling that the enlightened and democratic thinking of New Deal's architects, who brought public art into the American mainstream, is becoming a thing of the past. Certainly, as a working writer, I would love to receive one of those substantial NEA grants, just as any writer back in the 1930s would have been glad to have been employed the Federal Writers Project, but my thinking about this issue goes beyond my personal ambitions, into what I know is good for society. Making works of art available to the general public is important. Having money should not be a prerequisite to having access to art, and being sure that works of art are available to all people also ensures that that the next generation of artists, no matter their socio-econmic backgrounds, will have access to inspiration and to models of good work.
This exhibit also reminds us of two important facts: first, there is beauty even in things we would not normally consider beautiful, and second, that if art funding is left to the private sector then we may only be left with art that reflects the values of the wealthiest patrons in the private sector, who are not likely to pay for art that reminds us of the ugly and dehumanizing aspects of their enterprises. The inescapable fact remains that the working-classes are among us, and it is they who toil and sweat behind the scenes in dusty, dark, loud and otherwise unpleasant circumstances day after day to bring us many of the things we have. Seldom do we want to be reminded of the broad-shouldered machinery operators or gnarled housewives, but they are in this exhibit, and they should not be excluded from art in the larger context because patronage is left in the hands of people who prosper on their backs.
Notes:
1. Survey Graphic, Vol. 23, No. 6 (June, 1934), p. 279. Republished at http://newdeal.feri.org/survey/34279.htm.
2. ibid.
At a time when government funding for the arts is being cut and cut and cut, I have a bad feeling that the enlightened and democratic thinking of New Deal's architects, who brought public art into the American mainstream, is becoming a thing of the past. Certainly, as a working writer, I would love to receive one of those substantial NEA grants, just as any writer back in the 1930s would have been glad to have been employed the Federal Writers Project, but my thinking about this issue goes beyond my personal ambitions, into what I know is good for society. Making works of art available to the general public is important. Having money should not be a prerequisite to having access to art, and being sure that works of art are available to all people also ensures that that the next generation of artists, no matter their socio-econmic backgrounds, will have access to inspiration and to models of good work.
This exhibit also reminds us of two important facts: first, there is beauty even in things we would not normally consider beautiful, and second, that if art funding is left to the private sector then we may only be left with art that reflects the values of the wealthiest patrons in the private sector, who are not likely to pay for art that reminds us of the ugly and dehumanizing aspects of their enterprises. The inescapable fact remains that the working-classes are among us, and it is they who toil and sweat behind the scenes in dusty, dark, loud and otherwise unpleasant circumstances day after day to bring us many of the things we have. Seldom do we want to be reminded of the broad-shouldered machinery operators or gnarled housewives, but they are in this exhibit, and they should not be excluded from art in the larger context because patronage is left in the hands of people who prosper on their backs.
The exhibit has been on the road since January 2010, after a year-long showing at the Smithsonian in 2009. It showed in Montgomery from September 2011 until January 2012; the tour carries it from here to Muskegon, Michigan; St. Paul, Minnesota; Albany, New York; Madison, Wisconsin; Davenport, Iowa, and finally to Portland, Maine. For more about the exhibit, The Smithsonian Institution's website has a very thorough array of materials available, including a slidehow of the artworks.
1. Survey Graphic, Vol. 23, No. 6 (June, 1934), p. 279. Republished at http://newdeal.feri.org/survey/34279.htm.
2. ibid.
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